The Perdition Score (21 page)

I throw a couple of medium-hard punches to the back of his neck. He doesn't even notice. He still has his arms around me, trying to throw off my balance and get me onto the floor. His head is pressed against my belly, exposing one side of his face. I throw a medium, then hard punch into his temple. That loosens his grip. I push him back and give a love tap on the jaw. It staggers him, but doesn't do any real damage. Just pisses him off even more. He comes at me, throwing batshit fists and elbows at my head. I take it all, letting him punch Trotsky right out of my skull.

When it gets boring, I throw two hard shots low into his ribs, doubling him over. Shove him upright and stick a heel kick into his sternum, not hard enough to break bones, but enough to hurt. Then I move in. I was hoping for André the Giant and got a hillbilly tweaker. I don't know what the pit boss was thinking. Fuck them both.

I bounce the Wolf Man off the wall a couple of times and he goes down flat on his back. I stand there a minute; he doesn't move. Stupid me, I think the fight is over. I turn my back on him and head for the ladder, pissed at everyone for setting me up with such a shit fight.

Then my head explodes.

The Wolf Man was playing possum, waiting for me to do exactly what I did. When I turned my back, he grabbed a chunk of broken concrete from the edge of the pool and got me on the back of the head. How do I know? Because he comes around in front so I can see him swing the concrete
again. I try to move, but he hits me on the cheek, opening up a nice gash. I feel the blood gush down my chin and onto my chest. He comes at me again and I spit in his face. That stops him long enough for me to get back on my feet.

The damned concrete block is almost as big as his head. When he uses it, it pulls him off balance. I let him swing one more time, and while he's off center I hammer his face. It's a beautiful sensation when I feel the bone around his left eye crack.

He drops the concrete and grabs the side of his head, banshee-screaming. Slipping behind him, I wrap an arm around his neck, squeezing his throat and carotid artery like a two-dollar accordion.

I almost have him unconscious, but he's sweating so hard it's difficult to hold on properly. He moves his head enough to ease the pressure on his neck, then grabs my left arm and bites down. It doesn't hurt, the prosthetic never hurts, but I feel something rip. A funny sound travels around the crowd above us and I get a bad feeling. With a handful of the Wolf Man's hair, I smash his head into the side of the pool until he falls over. He's breathing, but this time he's not getting up.

There are no cheers. No boos. It's dead silence. I look down at my left arm and it's exactly what I was afraid of. The Wolf Man's teeth ripped half the skin off my Kissi prosthetic. There's nothing else to do now. I tear the rest of the skin off and shove it into the Wolf Man's mouth. When I climb out of the pool, everybody backs off. The only one who moves is the pit boss. He comes over, his face wrenched in disgust, like he found his darling daughter banging Gregor Samsa.

“I don't know who or what the fuck you are, but get out of here and never come back.”

I reach behind my head, come back with a handful of blood, and toss it on the floor. The pit boss jumps back. Everybody does. It might be radioactive.

I go to the bench and get dressed. No one follows me, but I make sure everyone sees me putting the Colt revolver into the waistband of my jeans.

Quietly, I push through the door, outside into the warm spring dark.

The bouncer says, “Calling it early tonight?”

“You could say that.”

I reach into my pocket and take out the sunglasses. Hold them up.

“You want these? I won't need them anymore.”

He takes the shades and looks them over. Nods.

“Thanks.”

I hold up a hand and walk to the bike.

“You know you're bleeding, right?” he shouts.

“Sometimes you deserve to. You know?”

“I know,” he says. Then, “Keep it real, man. See you soon.”

“Not likely. Enjoy the glasses.”

I cruise into the street and head home.

Well, there it is. An hour ago I was feeling superior to Vidocq and Abbot's bullshit and then I went out and broke my promise to Candy. There's no way I can hide these cuts and bruises from her. I'm not going to try. I deserve whatever happens. Candy was so worried about me leaving her last night. Now I'm the one worried about what she's going to do when she sees me.

At least one thing worked out. My headache is gone.

S
HE COMES HOME
late. I've showered and the cuts are already healing, but I still look like I shaved with a wheat thresher. Candy stops in the doorway. Comes over and takes my face in her hands.

“What happened to you?”

“I'm okay.”

“That's not what I asked.”

I look down at her.

“What happened is that I have no idea what's wrong with me. Without action I fall apart. Maybe you're right about the PTSD thing.”

“I am and you know it.”

“I'm seeing Allegra tomorrow. I'll talk to her about it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She looks at me hard.

“Is this about me and Alessa?”

“No. It's me and my shit strictly.”

“You better tell me if it's anything else.”

“I will.”

She lets go of me.

“I'm pretty pissed at you right now.”

“You should be.”

She crosses her arms.

“If it wasn't about last night, what set it off?”

“There's such a shit storm in my head. Vidocq might be in love with Liliane. Abbot's a liar. I'm a liar. Oh yeah, and some kids ate another kid alive tonight and it might be my fault.”

She leads me to the sofa.

“Tell me everything and I mean everything.”

So, I do.

And she doesn't leave me.

At the end of it, she leans back and says, “Poor kids. Poor Allegra.”

“Yeah.”

She takes my hand, still hanging on to the barbed-wire bucket of shit with me. If I came back from Hell for anything, it was for this. Fuck the world. If the whole planet was on fire, I'd stay on this sofa with Candy and let it burn.

“We're in it till the wheels come off, you know,” she says.

“Till the wheels come off.”

We sit there together like that until she falls asleep against me.

W
HEN
I
GET
to the clinic, Allegra is waiting for me outside.

She gives me a quick hug and leads me to a café around the corner. When I was dragged Downtown, Silver Lake was still thrift shops, dingy little corner groceries, working-class bars, people cooking on hot plates in garages, and low-level dope dealers. Now it's Wi-Fi-enabled omelets and gluten-free Vespas.

The café Allegra takes me to has all kinds of local handicrafts on the walls. Handblown glass sculptures. Elaborate ponchos and serapes. Artsy photos of shadows and empty parking lots. In another life I would have pegged the stuff as hippie junk, but the prices are aimed strictly at people who'll pay hundreds for vintage Chuck Taylors and ironic children's watches.

“Not a word,” says Allegra when she sees me looking
around. “This place has good coffee and these people are my neighbors. I'd like to keep it that way.”

“I'm not saying anything. I was just admiring the hundred-dollar doilies. They'd look charming in my gun drawer.”

She looks at me.

“What are you drinking, Stark? I'm buying.”

“Coffee. Black.”

“I'll get you an espresso. You can play with the little cup when you're done.”

“I'll get us a table.”

I find one by the window and settle down. Check my reflection in the glass. The bruises are fading and the gash on my cheek is healing fast. Still, you'd have to be on the space station to miss it. The knot on the back of my head from the concrete throbs, but Trotsky is nowhere to be found. I'll take a few bruises for that.

Allegra brings our coffee and sits down, smiling at me.

“What?” I say.

“Are you going to tell me about your face or am I going to have to play twenty questions?”

“It's nothing. I was in a fight I could have avoided, and got what I deserved.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she says. “No trouble at home, then?”

“Home is fine. What about you?”

She picks up a packet of brown sugar and pours it into her latte.

“I don't know,” she says. “Eugène is playing like nothing is going on with his lady love, but I'm not stupid. It might not be so bad if they didn't spend half their time speaking French like they don't want me to know what they're saying.”

“I'm sure it's not that. Vidocq just misses jabbering like when he was in France. He'll get over it in a couple of days.”

“He better. I'm about to throw him and Madame Defarge out of the clinic.”

“They're there now?”

She nods.

“Fairuza is keeping an eye on them for me.”

I taste my espresso. It's good. Dammit. How am I supposed to hate people if they make good coffee?

“You can't keep doing this. I know you're trying to be all reasonable, but if they're bugging you this much, you need to say something.”

“I know. That's one of the reasons I wanted to see you. Will you come with me when I tell Her Majesty to hit the road?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.”

We both drink our coffee. I clear my throat.

“Listen. This PTSD bullshit everyone wants to talk to me about. Hell. I don't know.”

“Chihiro told me about your headaches.”

“What did she say?”

She sips her coffee like she's thinking.

“Have you ever considered that they're psychosomatic? One of your PTSD symptoms?”

I look around the café, hating it more all of a sudden.

“Even my headaches are crazy? That's fucking beautiful. So what's next? Electroshock. Candy's hoping you can fix me.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Can you? I'm as tired of this as she is.”

Allegra looks surprised, but tries to hide it.

“I know a couple of Lurker-friendly psychiatrists I could recommend.”

I lean my arms on the table.

“No shrinks. No yoga or positive visualization. I need something that will actually help.”

“There are some medications we could try.”

I drop my head onto my arms for a second.

“I was afraid you would say that. Will that stuff even work on a half angel?”

She shrugs.

“Sometimes with psych meds it's like whacking the side of a radio. You have to keep hitting it until something works.”

“Or breaks.”

“That tells you something too.”

I look around the café. It feels stuffy all of a sudden.

“Fuck. I'm like some kid who can't sit still without his Ritalin.”

“Ritalin and some other drugs actually help people. Look, if civilian medications don't work, I have some Sub Rosa things we can try.”

“I like the sound of that. Let's try the Sub Rosa stuff first.”

“You're willing to try then?”

I finish my coffee.

“Yeah. I'll try.”

She wipes her lips with a napkin.

“Okay, then. Let's go get you stoned.”

“You're enjoying this a little too much.”

“I'm usually pulling bullets out of your backside, so, yes, prescribing medication is a welcome change.”

We get up.

“Okay, Dr. Frankenstein. Let's go. And we'll give Edith Piaf the boot too.”

“I'm more than ready for that,” Allegra says.

We go around the corner to the clinic. Fairuza gives me a look when I come in.

“Nice look, Stark. Did Candy whack you with a rolled-up newspaper for not picking up your socks?”

“Go play your drums, young lady. You're not good at comedy.”

“I'm playing my drums tonight. The whole band is getting together. You should come by.”

“Maybe I will.”

Allegra looks at Fairuza and cocks her head at the exam room door.

“They still in there?”

Fairuza rolls her eyes.

“Madame Curie asked me to leave. I was cramping their research.”

“Fuck that,” says Allegra, and heads for the door. I have to trot to keep up.

We go through and she shuts it again. Vidocq and Liliane turn around. Vidocq grins when he sees me.

“James. I have things to show you,” he says.

“Yes. We've learned a lot in the last day,” says Liliane.

“Great,” says Allegra. “Eugène can tell him about it. You, I want out of here.”

Vidocq and Liliane look at each other.

“Allegra. I don't understand,” he says.

“No, you don't and we're going to have a serious talk about that when Miss Thing leaves.”

Liliane sets down the forceps she was holding. She says, “I'm sorry if I offended you in any way. That was never my intention.”

“I don't care about your intentions. I'd just like you to leave.”

“But we've made discoveries together,” says Vidocq. “We know so much more about the black milk.”

“After she leaves,” says Allegra.

Liliane puts her hands together.

“Before I go, may I please show you all one thing?”

“No.”

“It has to do with James,” she says.

“What do you mean?” says Vidocq, looking surprised.

“Please. Let me show you.”

Vidocq looks at Allegra.

“Fine,” she says. “But then she goes.”

“Of course,” says Liliane. To me she says, “May I see the drill for a moment?”

I bring it over to her. She takes it and opens the mechanism.

“Stay here so you can see,” she tells me.